A Million Pieces
by fictionalparadox
Summary: "The marks of battle, they still feel raw; a million pieces of me on the floor."


**Title:** _A Million Pieces_  
**Author:** AJ  
**Word Count:** 706  
**Spoilers:** _Castle_ (2009), 1x01-3x24  
**Disclaimer:** All television shows, movies, books and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and the events in such, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and is not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places or events are made in a fictional context and are not intended to be libellous, defamatory or, in any way, factual.  
**Author's Note:** Yeah, I know; I'm a horrible person. Loosely based on _Exit Wounds_ by The Script.

* * *

_The marks of battle, they still feel raw_  
_A million pieces of me on the floor_

* * *

_11:10pm_

His arm lies limp on the floor next to him, pale, lifeless, the regulated blinks of his eyelids being the only sign of life. A few doctors had come down to him over the past hour, confused, reaching for the man's shoulder before pulling back in surprise at the flick of his head. They hadn't seen the swift fluttering of his lashes. They thought he was just another corpse, lost on his way to the morgue somehow.

Castle doesn't blame them for the mistake. He feels dead; it makes sense for him to look it too.

When his family had arrived, he'd given them each a hug and a hint of a smile but each time, he could feel it cracking, breaking apart until there was nothing left but the regret that had taken up residence in his heart. He had become an echo of the man he once was, each footstep an unconscious glide across the ground, an unknown force pushing him to the floor.  
He does the same to this new doctor, smiles the way he'd practised a million times for the cameras. But it feels wrong. This isn't a day to smile.

_10:06pm_

He doesn't know what's going on. The doctors haven't said anything to him yet, haven't offered him support, given him any news… Damn it, it's only been five minutes, ho—

Castle stops his train of thought there, his heart shattering with the weight of the scene in front of him. The doctors he had seen earlier, the ones who'd pushed him back, assured him they'd take care of her… they had come out of the room, their faces full of shame and defeat.

And he knew.

They'd glanced at him quickly before beginning the walk towards him but he didn't need their words. It was all the confirmation he needed.

She was gone. And it was his fault.

_9:36pm_

Price holds her at gunpoint, his muscled forearm clenching around her neck, threatening to cut off her oxygen supply for good, or perhaps break her neck in his haste.

He hadn't wanted this to happen, hadn't wanted to be here, in this position, with only the pistol that he'd grabbed from her ankle holster to save her with.

Castle looks into her eyes, the hazel irises pleading with him, sending him a message her voice never could.

_Take the shot._

He takes a deep breath. The air enters his lungs and it feels like a thousand knives are slowly pushing into his skin, prolonging the torture that some unknown power so believes he deserves.

He breathes out.

He fires.

* * *

He holds her in his arms as he waits for the ambulance, clenching the heavy blood flow from her neck with his palms, muttering soft messages in her ear ranging from, "I love you" to "I'm sorry" to "don't leave me".

It was the shooting all over again.

But this time, he had no one to blame but himself.

Price had fled, of course. He'd been given his getaway ticket, why not take it? No one had any intention of following him.

She swallows with a whimper, the red liquid bubbling out onto the floor as she does.

"I'm sorry, Kate, I'm sorry. I love you, please, I'm sorry."

Beckett breathes out a calming "shh", trying to quell his fear of losing her, even though she feels that it's no use. She's slipping away and they both know it.

With her last conscious motion, she reaches up to press her hand to his prickly cheek.

"It's okay. I'll be… okay."

Castle wants to speak, say something, anything more than what he has been but he can't for fear of letting out a weak, heartbreaking sob. If this is her last moment with him, with anyone, he can't let her hear that.

Instead, he simply nods and presses his forehead to hers as she slips away into unconsciousness, the ambulances' sirens gracing his ears with their presence as the sobs wrack his body.

* * *

_She always knew she'd take a bullet.  
__She didn't know he'd be the one to fire it.__  
_

* * *

**Author's Note: **Years ago, me and FF user, beatingoutasamba, decided to do a prompt trade. I've been working on a story for her since but sometime ago, she decided to abandon hers due to lack of inspiration. My prompt was a story based on the song, Exit Wounds by The Script.  
I understand her reasoning for not continuing the story and I don't blame her at all for that; I just still wanted to give that prompt closure, y'know? The story I'm writing for her is titled _Sleepless_ and will be relatively long compared to this story. I'll post it as soon as I can.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed! Reviews are always appreciated.


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